


On the Same Wavelength

by asherfeckenstein



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asherfeckenstein/pseuds/asherfeckenstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the city of Numbani and its reputation for peace and freedom amongst all kinds, Lucio finally attempts to confess his feelings for McCree. If humans and omnics can live together, then surely DJs and cowboys can do the same..?</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Same Wavelength

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm Asher, welcome to my rarepair hell. It's LuCree all the time here. I'm crossposting this fic from my tumblr (pharosatridorana.tumblr.com), and I'm gonna be crossposting the next few also, so, yay! I hope y'all like LuCree. If you don't now, then I hope you walk away liking it. ( ・∀・ )ゞ

If Lucio was asked to pick one thing he enjoyed the most about what his fame brought him, he would undoubtedly pick the travel possibilities. His home was Brazil, of course, but he loved that he could see the rest of the world, too. And there was no city outside of his native Brazil he loved more than Numbani; a dazzling city, a prime example of what the world could achieve if they put the idea of peace first, one of the few cities where humans and omnics could live together harmoniously. In a city that encouraged cooperation and love between two groups with such extreme differences, Lucio hoped to establish a little love of his own between himself and a certain bounty hunter. 

Lucio was set to perform a concert in Numbani, and he’d invited McCree to tag along. McCree, flattered by the invitation but uncertain whether or not it was a good idea for him to visibly be attending such a populated and highly secured event, went along but watched the show from a hotel. He’d never admit it to acquaintances, but he had a soft spot for Lucio’s music, and the concert delivered on all its promises of changing the way one experiences music. The quality of the audio, the lighting effects, it all made McCree almost regret not showing up in person. 

After the concert finished, McCree laid down on the sofa in the hotel room and covered his face with his hat. He thought a lot about seeing Lucio in his element, doing what he loves more than anything else, how much joy he must take in being able to share his music with the world. It was one of Lucio’s most endearing qualities, McCree thought. He felt more than a little silly, lying on the sofa and lingering on thoughts of his friend’s sheer devotion to his craft, as if he were like any other screaming fan of the DJ. He was so occupied, in fact, that he didn’t hear the room’s door open, and he was slightly startled by the sensation of a hand grabbing one of his feet and shaking it a little.

“Stop hogging the whole thing, man. Lemme cop a seat,” he could hear Lucio say. Without lifting his hat to look, McCree brought his legs up closer to his chest to make space. Lucio plopped down onto the cushion next to McCree, legs wide spread, sighing dramatically and messing with his hair.

“Man, that was a hell of a show,” Lucio remarked, “Crowd had a great energy! Didja manage to catch it all?” McCree responding by bringing his legs back down on top of Lucio’s lap. Lucio chuckled softly and let one of his hands fall from his head down to the space between the cushions, where his fingers brushed gently against McCree’s. The younger of the two men stiffened slightly at the contact, feeling the heat rush to his face, and looked over to see if the other had reacted; McCree, however, remained unchanged. 

Lucio felt more than a little disappointed. His recent conversations with Tracer, of which there were many, seemed to imply that pretty much everyone saw his and McCree’s mutual feelings for one another, except for the both of them. He’d argue that he wasn’t wholly oblivious to his feelings; rather, ignoring them and waiting for them to go away, but Tracer wasn’t having it with his excuses. Every day, she’d prod him a little bit more about whether or not he’d made any sort of move yet, and on this day, she had almost literally pushed him into McCree’s assumed virile chest. Much as he’d have enjoyed such a thing, Lucio was quick to remind both himself and Tracer that they were in an active combat zone. Fearing that Tracer’s next actions might get him seriously injured, he decided to take matters into his own hands. This was hardly a setback; Lucio would not be deterred. He took a moment to assess the situation: their seating arrangement was...odd, but not necessarily bad, and he had a pretty good thing going with the hand contact thing. Maybe he should expand on that? That’s probably a safe bet.

“Oh man, sorry about that,” Lucio said coyly, delicately entwining his fingers in McCree’s, “Though, you don’t really seem to mind, so...”

McCree shrugged his shoulders slightly, just enough to convey his ambivalence. Of course he wouldn’t fold so easily. Guy’s a cowboy. Lucio’s other hand, which had spent this whole time twisted in between two of his locs, disengaged and dropped to McCree’s leg. He sighed again, with added flair, hoping for words from the older man, but still none came.

“You’ve, uh...really got a...stony exterior, don’t you, cowboy?”

“Mm.”

So he’s not asleep. That’s...good.

“But, I mean, I’m sure if you wanted to, you’d show...a little bit of a...softer side...?”

“Make no mistake,” McCree’s gruff voice came forth, causing Lucio’s heart to jump to his throat, “If I wanted ya, I’d take ya.”

“Oh.” Lucio’s heart settled back down to its proper position in his ribcage, but made no attempt at slowing. Both his hands retracted and clasped tightly in front of him. He opened his mouth with the intent to excuse himself, likely to lock himself in the bathroom for several hours and bang his head against the mirror, when McCree finally sat up, his hat falling to the floor in the process. He leaned in close to Lucio’s face, cupping his chin gently with his one organic hand.

“Assumin’, of course, that I’ve got yer permission?” McCree’s voice was low, almost a murmur. His face was tantalizingly close, and when Lucio inhaled he could smell hints of tobacco and spice on McCree’s breath. Lucio unclasped his hands and slowly, tentatively pressed them against McCree’s chest, which caused his face to flush and breath to hitch. Lucio exhaled for the first time in what seemed like hours.

“F-funny,” Lucio stammered, “th-that you’d ask for permission, man. Because I-I was checkin’ to see if you and I w-were on the same wavelen--”

The rest of Lucio’s sentence was cut off by the sudden meeting of his and McCree’s lips. It was rushed and sloppy, noses and teeth bumping together awkwardly, and McCree couldn’t help but think maybe Lucio had hated it because his damn lips were so dry. Lucio, though, gripped McCree’s shirt tightly and tried to pull him closer. Now that their seating positions had become a little more awkward, McCree re-positioned himself so that he was straddling Lucio’s lap instead, allowing for Lucio to properly draw him into his chest. McCree held Lucio’s face in both hands as Lucio went in for another kiss; slower this time, less desperate, eyes closed and not wide with shock. His hands lessened their grip on McCree’s shirt and slid down to his waist, his lips pressed hot and hard against his. McCree’s worries about the state of his lips quickly slipped his mind as he allowed himself to melt into Lucio’s embrace, wrapping his hands around his neck, not wanting their lips to fully break apart. Softly, Lucio pulled back, much to McCree’s dismay, which he expressed with a low growl.

“Don’t get mad, I just gotta breathe,” Lucio said in between gasps. McCree reluctantly opened his eyes to see him staring back at him, with warm eyes the color of leather, and that ever present grin with the irresistible dimples. He pressed his forehead against Lucio’s, chuckling gently.

“Oh, I get it. You’re just a big softie on the inside.” Lucio laughed, running a hand through McCree’s hair.

“Not...usually,” McCree said, “But for you? Well, I’ll make an exception.”

They spent the next few moments basking in each other’s presence before McCree dared to move, merely to brush a couple locs from in front of Lucio’s face. 

“When’s yer next show, poppet?” McCree asked, “I think next time, I’d prefer to be there in person.”

“I’ll reserve you a special spot up close,” Lucio replied, delicately nudging his nose against McCree’s, “I wanna make sure you really feel the beat, yknow?”

**Author's Note:**

> "Poppet" is a British term of endearment but apparently it was also used in the old West from what I could find? If I'm wrong then please let me know, I'd really like to know so I don't use it out of place again.


End file.
